11/20/11

Dear Husband.

Today we talked about our first date. About how you didn't think I was nervous, but I was. About how we ate at Cuckoo's Nest in one of their booths, making awkward conversation that 15-year-olds and 17-year-olds can't help but make. And about how I wish I could remember more of what we said - that my memory could catalog each moment of that night with perfect clarity.

I do remember how you looked at me. Like I was the only person in the room.

I used to worry that we'd run out of things to talk about. I thought that one day, surely, we would sit in silence over meals, wishing we hadn't used up all conversation when we were teenagers. That hasn't happened yet. In fact, sometimes I think you wish for a little less conversation.

Not everyone gets to keep their first love. It's expected that we don't. Oh, but I loved you so. And from the beginning, you've loved me extraordinarily well.